


It's My Fault

by PusillanimousBitch1138



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, Loss, Post-Institute, grieving sole, shaun betrayal option
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 21:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PusillanimousBitch1138/pseuds/PusillanimousBitch1138
Summary: Maccready finds Nora grieving.





	It's My Fault

When MacCready woke up, it was still early morning, that hour before dawn where the world was still and quiet, insects were just waking up, dew clung to the underside of tarberry bushes, and hub flowers hadn’t opened their blooms yet. He rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at his wife but frowned when he saw she wasn’t there. He sat up and looked around their room and sighed when he saw that her shoes were not by the closet. _‘Another late night,’_ he thought to himself. He stood and wrapped the blanket around himself to brace against the chill in the air and jammed his feet into his boots. He glanced into the boys’ room as he passed and smiled slightly as he saw both of them sleeping peacefully, Duncan’s head and arm hanging off the side of his bed, Shaun eerily perfect. He shut their door slightly and wandered downstairs. A fire had been lit in the fireplace in the living room, directly beneath the bedrooms, and he sighed at the warmth, wiggling his fingers over the flames. He turned to look out the window and admired the view of the beach line, beginning to glow a pinkish orange from the peeking sun. MacCready’s peace vanished as he heard the unmistakable pounding of a hammer on metal in the distance, towards the interior of the island. He adjusted the blanket tighter around him and stepped into the crisp air, making his way carefully towards the center of the island where all the heavy machinery was arranged in a circle beside the workbench.

He heard her before he saw her. She grunted with every swing of the hammer. Once she came into visual sight, he could make out her back to him, wearing nothing more than a vault suit, the top of it hanging down around her waist, and the tattered work shirt she stored in the work bench. It had gathered more than a few holes over the years, but she insisted she would never get rid of it. It took him several instances hounding her before she told him that it had been her father’s shirt, and that it was the only thing to have survived the war. _“He would be offended if I didn’t wear it,” _she had said, her face turned away from him.

As he neared, he heard her yelp in pain and let out a stream of curses almost worse than he could have come up with himself, the hammer falling to the ground. “Honey?” he asked, stepping into the little cabin thingy.

She glanced at him, holding her hand tightly. “I’m fine. I just missed.” She looked down at her hand and grumbled, sticking her reddening finger in her mouth.

“When was the last time you washed your hands?” he gaped.

She grumbled around her finger, picking the hammer back up and stepping away from the workbench. She grabbed something to her left and scooted past him, walking out to one of the five giant generators.

He turned to watch her for a moment before he sighed. “Honey, how long have you been out here? Did you even come to bed?”

She glanced at him and shook her head before opening the hatch on the generator and maneuvering partway into the machine, a socket wrench clanking away. “No,” she said.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re going to make yourself sick. I mean, it’s freezing out here, babe. You’re gonna get a cold or some shi—something.”

She didn’t say anything, chucking a hunk of innards of the machine over her shoulder.

He huffed in annoyance and walked around so he could see her better. “Would you talk to me? Please? What’s going on?”

She paused what she was doing before she said, more than a little bit of frustration in her voice. “I have to fix this goddamn generator. Without it, we don’t have enough power to run the entire island. The Mastersons don’t have any power in their house and one of the purifiers quit on me, too. I have to get it fixed.”

“And it couldn’t wait until it wasn’t freezing?”

She snapped a glare at him out of the corner of her eye before turning back to her work. “No.”

He tilted his head back in frustration and looked at the sky for a second. “What’s _really_ going on, Nora?”

“That _is _what’s going on. Now either help me or go back to bed. I’ve got shit to do.”

He could hear the undertone of sadness in her voice, like she was saying this to convince herself of it. He almost started to leave, to let her alone so she could do her work, but before he could take his first step he suddenly remembered what time of the year it was. The chilly air, nature turning colors, crops starting to die. Like it had a year ago. He turned back to her and put his hand on her back. “Nora…” he whispered.

She pulled herself out of the generator and glared at him. “_What_, Mac? Can’t you just let me work? I have to get this done!” she growled.

He shook his head and pulled her into him, wrapping the blanket around her. She was freezing against him, her fingers like ice against his skin. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. It’s today, isn’t it?”

She froze against him, looking up into his eyes. He smiled at her sadly and put his hand against her icy cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes and her breath began to grow ragged. He hugged her tightly to him and let her cry for a few minutes before he gently ushered her towards the house. He guided her to the couch near the fireplace and sat down with her, spreading the blanket across their shoulders. She clung tightly to his midsection, staring at the fire as silent tears streamed down her face and onto his bare chest. He didn’t complain, just held her to him and stroked her hand until she was ready to talk.

It took a while. The sun was almost all the way up over the horizon when she finally spoke, her voice a whisper against the crackle of the flames. “It’s my fault.”

He shook his head and kissed her hair. “No, no it’s not.”

She swallowed hard, her breath shaking. “It is, though… I didn’t have to… How could I have…?”

He gripped her hand tightly and rubbed her far arm soothingly. “You did what you felt was best, like you always do. And what you feel is best always is.”

She said nothing for quite a while until she withdrew her hand from his. “Maybe… Maybe we shouldn’t have gone to the Vault in the first place… Maybe it would’ve been better…”

Anger flared up in him, but he did his best to keep his voice calm and quiet. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know how much good you’ve done for us all? Institute aside, you saved hundreds of synths from slavery. You help rid us of raiders. You single handedly have built 29 thriving settlements and drastically improved the lives of people living there. You are the most generous, caring person I know, Nora. If you hadn’t survived the war, who knows where we’d be?” His voice dropped a little. “Where would I be? Or Duncan? Without you, Duncan…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

She looked up at the ceiling, her body trembling, whether from cold, exhaustion, or unshed tears he couldn’t figure out.

“But I… I murdered my son… I killed my baby boy…”

MacCready took her hand back in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “He was sick, Nora. And he wasn’t your baby anymore, not really. The Institute made damn sure of that. _They’re_ the ones who killed him, and your husband. In a way, you _avenged _them. You avenged the childhood Shaun could have had, the bedtime stories and the kickball games and the broken hearts. Shaun was lost to you the moment that _son of a bitch _took him from that cryo chamber. It’s _not _your fault. Your son is asleep right above our heads. _Our _son_s_ are asleep right above our heads, and they’re both healthy and happy and safe, _thanks to you_.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled out over her eyes but she said nothing. They sat like that for probably another hour before he gently pulled her to her feet and helped her up the stairs to bed. They laid together in the warming morning sun, Nora buried in MacCready’s arms as he held her tightly. They stayed like that for most of the morning until the boys woke up, and MacCready had to go shut the door on them, asking them to go spend the day with Uncle Preston on the other side of the island. They were more than happy to oblige, and MacCready rejoined his wife, taking her in his arms once again. As she drifted off to sleep, he whispered that he would never leave her side, and it was the truest thing to ever come out of his mouth in years.


End file.
